


love me (please)

by combatwombat14



Series: love is a wilting flower. [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Percy Jackson Needs a Hug, Suicidal Thoughts, Tragedy, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29196681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combatwombat14/pseuds/combatwombat14
Summary: Percy Jackson has loved too many people who will never love him back.He knows how to finally make everyone love him. Once and for all.Crossposted on Fanfiction.net. (one-shot!)TW: Suicide.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Calypso/Percy Jackson, Percy Jackson/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, Rachel Elizabeth Dare/Percy Jackson, Thalia Grace/Percy Jackson
Series: love is a wilting flower. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2143569
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54





	love me (please)

**Author's Note:**

> angst, angst and more angst. seems to be my thing.

* * *

“I accept, mi’lady.”

He has to admit, he expected that to happen.

Despite every moment they’d shared, and every time she’d cried, burying her head into his shoulder.

Despite the laughs and fights and threats and everything else, she’d do it.

Despite how she’d cried into his shoulder in the moon chariot for Zoe Nightshade, though he knew who she was truly crying for.

It wasn’t the Daughter of Atlas who lay there, staining the moon chariot with the crimson colour of her blood.

He had expected this.

He respects her decision, he really does.

But he can’t bring himself to listen as she tries to explain why she’s done this, because he knows, frankly, it’s all bullshit.

He knows she’s done with him.

And though – maybe – she doesn’t realise it, he certainly knows, from the first time she’d mentioned the Son of Hermes, that all he’d ever been to her was a replacement.

A shoulder to cry on, something expendable. Something to be used, then thrown away like a common rag doll.

Percy has to grit his teeth at the thought of being used. But he loves her, so he’ll let her go.

Then she hugs him.

It’s awkward, and somewhat symbolic, but Percy returns it blindly, unaware of what he’s saying as he does so.

(Because even though he was expecting it

It really hurts like a _bitch_.)

* * *

“Go.”

He’s on the raft now, the last word of Calypso ringing in his mind.

It will always be his greatest what-if.

What if he’d stayed? He doesn’t know, but he’s made his choice.

And after all, the grass is always greener on the other side.

Long Island Sound is coming into view, but all Percy does is bite the inner of his cheek, hard enough to make it bleed.

A part of him wishes he’d stayed.

Because he’d be free. Free from all this prophecy bullshit – a prophecy he’s unaware of, even – from all this Love Triangle bullshit, from all this Labyrinth bullshit, from all the bullshit that the Gods expected of him.

But he also knows he wouldn’t be free, not really.

He’d been stuck inside of his own mind, day in and day out, because he knows Calypso was using him, even if she didn’t know.

Her mind was undoubtedly still on the adventurer who’d found himself on her island, millenia ago – the one called Odysseus.

Percy doesn’t blame her.

He’s just a shoulder to cry on, after all, isn’t he?

(He admits he expected it, but still

_Gods_ , it hurts.)

* * *

“We... were never meant to be, Percy.”

Hestia is the sole reason he doesn’t sheer off a very large portion of Mount Olympus right now.

Her overpowering comfort is pushing his rage, his pure, unadulterated rage, the one that he’d inherited from his father, down back into the confines of his body.

It makes him feel as if he’ll implode.

For the past half-year, all he’s been doing is _worrying_. He doesn’t know what to do, and he doesn’t want to get _involved_ into this romance bullshit with his best friends while he’s worrying whether or not the fucking Titan Lord is coming to kill him.

But he still does.

Percy wants to kill someone, he genuinely does. Everything he’s been so stressed about has accumulated to a destructive rage worthy of his name – Perseus.

The Destroyer.

Rachel has just dumped him even though they were never dating, and Annabeth is mad at him for some unfathomable reason, and Kronos is about to march on Olympus with his fucking army, and he is very likely going to be dying today.

He clenches his jaw and turns, not willing to hear whatever the _fuck_ Rachel wants to say, because he’s just so fucking tired of being used.

He refuses to listen to her calls of _Percy!_ and _Please!_ because he’s going to kill someone, and despite all of this bullshit he doesn’t want to kill her.

(Maybe he’ll die today

at least then it wouldn’t hurt anymore.)

* * *

“Family, Luke! You promised!”

It’s the second time in the same fucking day, and Percy is ready to kill Annabeth.

She still clings onto a delusional belief that Luke can be redeemed. That despite everything he’s done, including putting her under the weight of the sky – which Percy himself had saved her from – the Son of Hermes has earned some sort of shitty redemption arc.

He almost snorts, but he keeps it in.

But there’s an undertone of something in her voice.

Longing.

Not a simple sentimental longing for her big brother Luke or for _family_ , no.

She still loves him.

The Son of Poseidon clenches his fists, biting back an exclamation of _fuck!_ because really?

Why the fuck does his best friend, Annabeth, possibly the fucking smartest person that he knows, still believe that Luke Castellan, of all people, is still someone to love?

Why can’t she just _see_?

(Why does he just

keep getting hurt?)

* * *

“No, Luke.”

Despite her proclamation that she’s never loved the boy that’s dying before her, Percy doesn’t believe Annabeth one bit.

Her constant rejection of the fact that the Son of Hermes was beyond redeemable was persistent to all of the five years they’d been together as friends.

If that’s how fucking stubborn she is, Percy can’t say he wants to be with her as _more_.

He can hear the hesitation in her voice as she denies the fact that she loved – loves – the Son of Hermes, who was currently bleeding out below her, a dagger lodged into his Achilles’ Spot, and Percy has to muster up everything to stop himself from spitting on the ground disgust.

Thalia’s free from the massive Statue of Hera that had pinned her down, and now she’s sitting by his side, not willing to intrude upon Annabeth’s moment with Luke right now.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

The Daughter of Zeus angles her head slightly towards the scene before them, and smiles sadly at him. But there’s something else in her eyes, and Percy can see that she _knows_. She knows what she’d did to him all those years ago, with those three words.

He grunts.

He’s too tired to do shit right now.

(Thalia grabs his hand, but it means little

because she’d done the exact same thing to him before. )

* * *

“Praetors work closely together-“

Percy can’t remember jack _shit_ , but that statement from the girl before him just sets off the red flags in his mind, but for the love of the Gods he can’t remember why.

The girl – Reyna, was it? – had essentially just offered him to become praetor. Of the Roman Legion.

That isn’t what deters him, not at all – it’s the fact that she wants to get close to him. For some unfathomable, bizzare reason, Percy does _not_ want that to happen.

His heart aches a bit as he sees Reyna’s face fall for the slightest second, but his resolve stays hard as steel.

Six months on the streets helped him do that.

What that six months had also taught him was how to read people.

And as good as Reyna was at being unreadable, he was better.

And how she’d spoke about this ‘Jason’ – it was blatantly obvious that if it ever came down to _him_ and Percy, well, it was a no brainer.

His jaw clenches, unconsciously, at the thought of being _used_. Percy knows it’s normal to feel angry about it, but this is something different. He wants to destroy something, to expend all of his _wrath_ just at the thought of being a shoulder to cry on.

He wanted to kill someone, he really did. It was the only way he could rid himself of the pain.

A call of his name sends him back into the real world, where Reyna is looking at him with no small amount of fear in her eyes.

He realises he’s caused a storm, one that’s sending the citizens of Rome scampering for shelter.

But in her eyes, there’s also admiration.

It won’t last long.

He storms out of her office without saying a word, and decides he’ll make it up to her later.

Somehow.

(Later, when Jason climbs down the ladder and Percy sees Reyna’s eyes

He’s glad he never got involved.)

* * *

The Athena Parthenos is falling.

More accurately, it’s falling into Tartarus.

And in moments, so will he.

Percy’s already made up his mind.

All he needs to do is whack the Son of Jupiter in the back of the head, run off the ship, and bam.

His plan goes off without a hitch as he smacks the pommel of his blade into Jason’s head, sending him crumpling to the floor, and everyone else is too shocked to respond as Percy runs staright across the deck of the Argo and jumps past the railing.

He swan dives into the depths of Tartarus, and can see the golden glint of the Parthenos below him.

Vaguely, he can hear the cries of the Seven above him, but he doesn’t care.

(Maybe, he’ll die in the Pit

because they loved you when you were gone, right?)

* * *

He’s falling, but this time, it’s not into Tartarus.

The wind blows loudly into his ears, and he can’t even hear his own thoughts.

His mind is too jumbled to form any.

His vision is tinted red, and spinning. He can’t make out a single feature of what’s above him, even as he falls helplessly, approaching the ground rapidly, everything around him just crimson.

* * *

Tell me

that you

Love me

too.

* * *

Impact.

for the briefest of moments, everything is clear.

he can see the looks on everyone’s faces, the terror as they realise he will die.

he can see them all

he knows he’s dead

but despite this

he smiles

because they all love you when you’re gone


End file.
